


In Control

by AQA473



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Femslash February, Flashbacks, Masturbation, Pining, Surprise Sex, late entry, post-coital guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 13:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13835928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQA473/pseuds/AQA473
Summary: Beau and Jester are on watch duty. In the darkness of night, Beau's imagination gets the better of her, and her mind wanders to a certain bald elf.





	In Control

**Author's Note:**

> I have terrible memory and am slightly not-smart. I found out monks start with Patient Defense, even though this story acts like Dairon taught it to Beau at level 3. If anyone who knows D&D better than me, please let me know how I can alter the story to still retain the same message but change the whole "Patient Defense" focus.

Beau swiped her nose, flinging a gnat into the night. She nestled in the dirt, arm resting on her knee as she stared past her hand at a field of tall grass. A warm glow emanated from behind her, illuminating a wall of reeds, but leaving the rest of the field black as oil. There was enough space between the grass and the camp to react should anyone, or anything, emerge. The other side was less generous, so Jester shared watch.

If something came from the grass, she would be ready. Dairon called the technique “Patient Defense.” Beau scoffed. “Patient.” Certainly not something she’d call herself, something Darion said she needed. The ability to handle aggravation, to remain calm in the face of it. How is that possible? When someone comes at you, your strike first. Retaliate, don’t let them in. React, respond. Beaus flexed her hand before tightening into a fist. Many already felt her blows. And she had the scars to prove it.

 _Scars are lessons_ , Dairon said. _But too many, and it shows you aren’t learning. You know what it’s like to be hit. Now learn how to prevent it from happening again._

The grass swayed in a warm breeze. The last person who told her what to do never did it again. The past was full of those stories, people and places she’d turned her back on years ago. Could she face them again?

She faced Dairon. That face, tight lipped, high cheekbones, the visage of a trained monk. The face of her past, strong, passionate, undeniable, unescapable. Beau closed her eyes, remembering. That face…

She wouldn’t mind returning to Zadash if it meant seeing that dark elf again. Bronzed skin, tight muscles, striking every point of her body that made her weak, made her vulnerable. Beau fought weakness, made it cry home to mama ‘cause it had no place in _her_ life. But it did. Her scars proved it.

_Show weakness. Dairon spread her heels a few inches apart, crouched low, hands near her abdomen. Make the enemy want you, think they can break you. You will show them that they can’t._

A hand slid up Beau’s hip and rested on her sash, gently pressing in between her thighs. She huffed softly and made a fist.

She spent most of her life on the beating end of the stick, showing no mercy and no weakness. Simple survival. But, what would happen if she encountered someone with Dairon’s skill, someone who actually meant to destroy her? Could she survive, then?

When Dairon offered, Beau accepted. Perhaps, in time, Beau could beat her. Back where Beau belonged. Her staff was a tool, but her hands were her weapons, weapons Dairon understood better than Beau wanted to admit. But she did admit it. She accepted defeat, and lessons, and hands… those tough, scarless hands.

Her thumb pulled down the sash then brought it back up, rubbing the fabric against herself. The course linen plied her folds, her eyelids flashing images of a powerful elf.

Beau had hardly considered a partner, living in Kamordah and Zadash. She’d slept around, eager to take people down in more ways than one, but anything more and she was quick to retreat. Commitment was weakness. Committing to a person, a cause, an order. It was why she left. Now, it was why she didn’t fight going back.

Commitment to someone… Beau bit her lower lip. Someone with pointed ears and a smooth accent, someone who knew more about her than she did, someone who didn’t tease her for weakness.

_Feel it in here. Dairon tapped her head. Be aware of everything around you; the breeze, the smoke, dirt between your toes, your clothes wrapped around your body. The world can bend to your need, if you know where to strike._

Beau gripped her knee as her other hand slid under her waistband. She was hot, and breathed deeply, feeling the plunge. It’d been some time since she last felt herself, and now was likely not a good time, but she needed it. She needed those unsettling eyes to look her way again. Would they meet in Zadash? Or would Beau be handed to someone else, like Xenoth?

Her touch soured at the thought. What if she disappointed Dairon? Or worse, pleased her so much that Dairon deemed her worthy for a “higher” teacher.

“Don’t leave me,” Beau whispered.

Her fingers dove into her, stroking, coaxing out emotions and fantasies she never thought she’d have. Was it affection, or desire? Desire to be beaten, or to be held? She imagined what it would feel like, to have Dairon’s coarse skin on hers, not to harm, but to simply be, pressed together. It would be heavy, warm, maybe sweaty.

Despite losing, Beau had given the elf quite the workout, her bare head showing the gleam of exertion. What she would take to see that expression of pleased breathlessness again.

A moan escaped her as her clit caught between her fingers. It ached as she stroked back and forth. Her other hand fell to the ground, grabbing a fistful of dirt as her pelvis shivered.

_Xenoth swayed, barely conscious. It’s here and here, Dairon said, placing her middle fingers in the space between Xenoth’s arm and shoulder. With a sharp jab, he collapsed. Hitting your opponent is easy, knowing where and how hard, that’s the key._

Beau pinched the bud between her fingers, her thumb rubbing her slickness across it. She groaned deeply, her eyes flashing open as she stared down. Sweat from her brow dripped onto the part of her hand sticking out of her pants. Her body swelled as she stroked more, fingertips rubbing deeper and faster.

She dreamed of it, of being stronger, of being a match for Dairon. A match in the ring, and a match in the bedroom. What did that dour elf look like beneath her mantle? Taught muscles, trained limbs, a forbidden dream.

Beau’s head swung back, her fingers touching tightened nerves. She gasped as her head hit something hard. Her peripheral caught a glimpse of vibrant horns and cobalt hair.

Soft hands crept around her waist and joined her own hand still deep inside herself.

“Must be a lovely dream,” Jester said quietly.

Beau wanted to fight it, this wasn’t Dairon! But she was weak, and she was close. Her hand felt useless and limp as Jester pulled it from her, trained fingers replacing her clumsy ones.

She moaned, leaning back into her companion. She felt Jester’s breasts through her clothes, soft mounds pushing her spine gently.

Soft kisses pressed across Beau’s neck. She sighed, shutting her eyes. Jester’s hands her fast, one rubbing Beau’s clit, the other diving into her, twisting and curling. It hurt. Beau grabbed one of Jester’s hands weekly. Jester giggled.

“So tight! Stressed?”

Beau exhaled, opening her eyes. “Jester, please.”

“Shh,” she kissed Beau’s cheek. “Hmm, I’ll stop… if you want.”

She wanted Dairon there, to be in her arms, to be plowed by her powerful hands like an Alfield farm. But her body ached, and Jester was there, warm, soft, gentle.

She relaxed, letting go of Jester. The pain lessened, turning into a dull pleasure.

A giggle reverberated up Beau’s back, and Jester placed a wet kiss on Beau’s ear.

Her ministrations intensified, tugging at her folds, pulling her sash open, delving deep into her body. She thrust her pelvis to meet Jester’s hands. They plunged, down to the knuckles, three fingers in, her pinkie caressing the inside of Beau’s thigh.

It was like thunder, a deep below in her core, like something far away but tangible. Jester bit her throat and rubbed her clit raw.

“ _Uhn!_ ” Beau’s hand flew to Jester’s shoulder, squeezing tight as her whole body flexed. It felt wrong, a betrayal of her own desires. It fell in her like a stone, cold and hard. Cool sweat dripped down her other arm into the dirt, clumping at the base of her fist. Jester gasped as Beau squeezed tighter, juices flowing from herself freely. A squelching noise contaminated the air as Jester continued her eager strokes. Pleasure and guilt pulsed through Beau, hitting her feet, her fingers, her breasts, her toes, pinching her mind.

Her breathing slowed, body still. Jester let her hands rest, but didn’t remove them. Beau’s hand fell into the dust.

They sat, watching the breeze tease the grass before them. Jester’s head laid on Beau’s shoulder.

“Don’t hold it all in, Beauregard.”

Beau hummed.

Another wet kiss on her cheek, then Jester extricated herself from the monk and left, footsteps swallowed by the crackling fire.

Beau fell back onto the ground. She felt wet, cold, dirty.

Stars twinkled above, indecipherable. If they had something to say, Beau thought, they better say it. She let her do it. _She let her touch her_. Beau could take Jester in a fight, she could have stopped those mischievous hands from diving so deeply. But she didn’t. A pit formed in her chest, tightening, squeezing until she gasped for air.

_Your first lesson is patience. You are a coiled snake, poised, prepared for action at the slightest provocation. Control it. Patience does not mean to take punishment unduly. It is to wait, to show your enemy that that you control both your destinies._

Beau closed her eyes. Had she failed?

**Author's Note:**

> Another request: should I tag the Beau/Jester pairing? I kinda wanted it to be a surprise, but I know how disarming it can be to read a fic expecting a certain pairing and getting a different one. Alternatively, Beau/Jester fans would have a hard time finding this. I don't want to spoil that part of the story, but I also want to be fair to readers. And if there are any other discrepancies with the lore or D&D rules, please let me know. I'll do my best to remedy any errors ASAP.


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